


And We Come Back Every Time (repost)

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Bottom Bucky, M/M, Top Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: Nothing takes you out of the fire like the touch of your best guy.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 11
Kudos: 114





	And We Come Back Every Time (repost)

**Author's Note:**

> *ORIGINALLY WRITTEN AND POSTED IN SEPTEMBER 2016*
> 
> For whatever reason, this work was reported and flagged by the abuse team, and after trying to get it re-instated, well... no dice. So here it is again.

Without sirens and the truck going at full speed towards danger, riding in the fire engine isn’t nearly as fun on the journey home. Not that Steve would ever call battling an inferno fun, but the occasion is drained of all adrenaline when there’s nothing left to do but listen to his comrade’s tired breathing and the occasional shuffle of turn out gear against hard, metal seats. There isn’t enough room for six of them to fit in the back of the cab in their outfits, but there’s even less to take it off.

So he sits, quietly contemplating the last ten hours of his life. It had been his last day on rotation before two days off and he’d been in the process of making a couple of eggs for breakfast. Sunrise, right after six. Coffee had been brewing merrily, he was freshly showered after his pre-dawn workout, and he had managed to sneak a kiss to Bucky before he’d gone into kitchen. The previous day and a half had been silent, in spite of very hot, very dry weather and the pervasive feeling of _something_ waiting to happen. Steve had tried to ignore it, in spite of his best efforts. Ten years of fireman service – starting when he was eighteen – had been long enough to tell him that something was up.

He just wished that something hadn’t been a wildfire, caused all of a sudden by a freak thunderstorm and three lightning strikes. The dried out underbrush had been the perfect catalyst and while it’s not unexpected at this time of year – especially in the wilds of California – it had been.. jarring. When the alarm had gone off he had to physically slow himself down to turn off the stove and coffee pot so that the station didn’t burn down while they were away. He remembered seeing Bucky come dashing out of the living area where he’d been lacing up his boots, beating Steve down the pole by a second, moving in perfect sync as they’d suited up and leapt into the truck.

Rescue crews for a couple of hikers camping had beaten them to the scene and thank God, not a soul was hurt. Fire advisories were posted all around the forest, the danger known – but Steve can’t tell anyone to not anyone to not enjoy the preserve any more than he can Chief Fury to grow his eye back. Just doesn’t work that way.

That said, all of the energy that had been keeping him going throughout battling the blaze is now gone, and he craves something cold to drink and his bed. He makes himself stay awake, knowing that if he nods off now, he’ll never make it out of the truck. Uncomfortable the seats may be, but Steve could fall asleep as easily right now as though it were their memory foam mattress at home.

Looking across at Bucky, it looks like his husband has already beaten him there. God, Bucky had been the model of clear-headedness the entire time, stepping up into the role of director after Fury had had to go back to the station with aplomb. Now he looks just as exhausted as Steve, his normally silky brown hair matted with sweat and dirt, shaped by being in his helmet for so long, his face reddened by exhaustion and heat – but those impossibly pink lips remain perfect. He’s got his jacket undone just far enough for Steve to see the outline of his wedding ring where he keeps it around his neck under his shirt, making Steve feel for his own – it’s still there, the metal warmly comforting against his sweat-damp chest.

Bucky’s head starts to loll forward and Steve taps his left foot gently with the end of his boot, making Bucky pick his head up and open his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles innocently at being caught and sits up in his seat more, then taps Steve’s foot back.

That’s his partner, in so many different ways, inseparable from practically birth. Primary school, high school, college – Bucky’s _always_ been there. Truth be known, Steve had gathered a long time ago that there would only ever be Bucky. That had been written in some greater power’s book long before either one of them really ever took stock of that fact. The saying about who you’d take into a burning building, well, the only answer for Steve had been Bucky. He loves him, far more then he’s repeatedly tried to express in words that always feel inadequate.

Bucky’s smile gets wider and Steve returns it, wanting more than anything to reach out and take Bucky’s hand for just a moment. It’s not that the other guys at the station have a problem with them – hell, they’d walked in at twenty-two, already married for a year after finishing school – but the last thing either of them want to do is make anyone uncomfortable. That’s never been their style, and there’s no need to flaunt possessiveness in front of their comrades. They’re bound up together, a package deal, you get one, you get the other.

It still doesn’t deter Bucky from running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip at Steve before he pretends to absently brush ash from the sleeve of his jacket. Trust Bucky to try and brighten his spirits with the tease of something more intimate – not that Steve really needs brightening, he’s just _drained._ Then again, that’s just Bucky being Bucky – the promise of skin on skin contact, bodies pressed close together, kisses so deep that they make Steve’s head spin – it’s never far away. Hell, Bucky’s been hot for Steve since they were thirteen. It’s such a part of Steve’s life by now that he can’t well imagine anything else.

Bucky catches his gaze again, puffing out his chest a little before he lets his breath go, his smoky eyes making Steve feel heat of a different kind, right behind his heart. God willing he’ll get to put his arms around Bucky before long, hold him as close as he wants to and not let go until they’re back on duty. No one else has taken notice of their silent exchange, all too exhausted to be aware of much else beyond their own tiredness. It’s an understandable feeling, and with the blaze contained all they have to do is make sure everything goes back where it’s supposed to, hoses reeled up, oxygen tanks refilled, checks for injuries performed – that’s all routine, and if done right it won’t take long.

The truck finally pulls through the back door of Redding Station #8, a four-engine building with space for an ambulance if it’s necessary. Steve’s heartbeat slows when the truck is turned off and finally, _finally_ they’re back on terra firma.

Steve waits for everyone else to get out so that he has ten seconds of privacy with Bucky on their side of the engine. He doesn’t press him up against the side of the truck, but he does stand a lot closer to Bucky than necessary. In turnout gear, it’s hard to feel skin – but Steve does get a glove off so that he can put his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck and press their foreheads together.

“Per aspera ad astra.”

Through adversity to the stars.

It’s been Steve’s motto all of his life, from his days as a sickly child to now, when danger is their frequently courted guest. Bucky had adopted it too, after their second fire and Steve had literally pulled him from the roof of a burning building, Bucky playing the hero and rescuing people. It had been the first time, and sadly not the last – they’re about even with each other for saving the other’s life.

Bucky repeats the mantra back to him before he pulls away, hearing footsteps approaching.

“The two of you are going to be in tomorrow’s paper.” Chief Fury steps towards them, looking just as exhausted as they are but holding out a hand in congratulations. “Wanda stopped by with her reporter to get my approval for the photo. You two planned that, didn’t you?”

Steve looks at Bucky, shrugging. “We didn’t even know she was there. Why was she there?”

“Guess the two of you look enough like superheroes to justify the front page spot – but don’t let the fame get to your heads. You still have to help breakdown.” Fury smiles, then walks away, checking up on the rest of his crew.

Bucky laughs, tilting his head back and smoothing a hand through his hair. “Front page story? I can dig it.” They walk towards their equipment lockers on the far wall, close enough together to brush hands with every step. Steve doesn’t take it, but he’s tempted.

“If anything, it’ll be good PR for the department – but should they really have reporters going into wildfires just because it makes a good photo op?” Steve nearly cries with gratefulness as he takes off his heavy jacket, his uniform feeling slightly less plastered on as a result. Bucky does the same, except making it a little more sensual for Steve’s benefit.

Steve absolutely does not have the blood to spare for it, but arousal tickles at the base of his spine regardless. Bucky shrugs, offering “Wanda’s indestructible, you know that – and she says flattering things about me, so…”

“So you’re fine with it, so long as your ego’s stroked.” Steve smiles with the tease, and Bucky shoves him.

“I can think of…” He nearly says _different things to stroke_ but notices the eyes on them – “plenty of other reasons why she’s a good reporter.” He pulls off his pants and shakes them, knocking dirt and dust from them in a little cloud. Steve rolls his eyes, murmuring to himself that Bucky needs to work on a better save than that.

Bucky pretends not to hear him.

Once they’ve triple checked that everything is where it should be and that every man is accounted for, Steve finally heads towards the dorm on the second floor, intent on showering before they go home. Bucky’s a little anal about the inside of his truck smelling like sweaty, nasty firemen, and Steve’s not willing to have that argument with him tonight. He’s tired, sore, and his brain only has enough cells left to perform the basic functions necessary to get him to bed.

So it takes him by surprise right as he’s sitting down on the edge of his cot to start undressing when Bucky steps right in front of him and pulls him up. Now that they don’t have as much to worry about and the new shift is coming in, Bucky finally lets Steve have the full force of his dark, smoky eyes and plush lips, parted and wet for something Steve is going to have to work a miracle to find energy for.

“Why don’t we get cleaned up in _our_ shower, yeah?” The heat from Bucky is a palpable thing right now, and Steve can’t argue with his request. Besides, the water pressure’s a hundred times better at their place than it is here.

“But… your truck…” Steve feels like should at least _try_ for a nominal argument.

“Can be cleaned but… Steve, _c’mon._ ” Bucky doesn’t look like something’s got him spooked or whatever, just desperate. Maybe it’s just the last of his adrenaline making him like this, or perhaps he just feels the same overwhelming need to press their lips together that Steve did riding back to the station.

“Yeah, Bucky, yeah – we’ll go.” Steve puts his socks and boots back on while Bucky gets their personal effects from their shared locker and meets him over at the firepole, sliding down one after the other.

Under cover of darkness in the parking lot, Steve finally gets to slip his hand into Bucky’s and once there, he holds on tonight, the only thing tighter being Bucky’s hold on him. It’s a hardship to let go of Bucky so that he can get in on his side of the truck but once the doors are closed and the engine’s on, Bucky’s sliding across the bench seat to kiss him. It’s not an “I love you, have a nice day” sort of kiss, nor is it an “I want to get in your pants” kiss – this one’s slow, tasting, done for no other purpose than to make sure the other is still real and present, albeit weary to the bone and more than ready to fall into the comforting void of their king-sized bed.

Steve gets pressed up against the door, with Bucky doing his best to straddle his thigh and mold himself into Steve’s side – there isn’t room for it, but the attempt is made. Steve lets Bucky plunder his mouth with his tongue, scent laced with burning wood, diesel exhaust, hard-track dirt road, and tired spirit. Just breathing all that in puts Steve at comfort, knowing that they can leave all of that here at the station and make it another day where they don’t take it home with them.

Bucky pulls back once he realizes they’re still in public – “Uh… sorry. Well, not really. But sorry.” He rubs his fingers through Steve’s hair, just as gross as his own. “I kind of wanted to that a while ago.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve puts his hand on the small of Bucky’s back and rubs, seeing his reflection in Bucky’s huge pupils. “But I think we were fighting a fire earlier, kind of hard to do anything about that when everything’s burning right in front of you.”

Bucky laughs and kisses Steve’s neck, his stubble making Steve “hm” with a little rush of pleasure. “Don’t think that it stopped me from at least thinking about it. God, Steve, you know I want you most after duty.”

“Shh, Buck, I know.” Steve kisses him again and alright, this time it _is_ an “I want to get in your pants” sort of affair. “Take us home and you can have all of me you can take.”

It’s a boast that he absolutely doesn’t know how he’ll back up, but it does get Bucky behind the steering wheel and heading out of the parking lot. Their hands are joined in the middle of the seat, tight around each other’s fingers – but right before they pull out onto the road, Bucky stops.

“Hey, Stevie, can I uh… you know?” 

Bucky’s looking at him with all of his considerable sincerity, like this is some sort of Important Conversation – which are thankfully few – but Steve knows exactly what he wants.

“Absolutely, baby.” Steve lets go of his hand and unbuckles his belt and pants; immediately, Bucky’s hand is shoving into his waistband and going right for his dick, his fingers not stopping moving until he’s got him gripped comfortably and they’re on the road to home.

That’s the sign they’re okay right there, when Bucky holds his junk for comfort. That’s always been a thing between them, and it’s a thing absolutely no one else knows about. Done like this, it’s not a turn on – Bucky likes the warm space between Steve’s legs, the heft of his soft cock in his hand and the insane level of closeness required for it – and Steve can’t find a single reason to deny it to him. If that’s what he wants to substitute for a security blanket, that’s completely fine with Steve. 

Steve spreads his legs a little wider, settling back into his seat and keeping his fingers curled around Bucky’s wrists. “I think I have swamp ass.”

“That’s bad, considering we don’t live near a swamp. How do you figure?”

“Because, my sweat has sweat right now. Hell, it has since hour three of fighting that fire.” Tragically, the rain had lasted just long enough for the lightning to start that fire, and then promptly disappeared. Hence the several coats of sweat on his body.

“Guess that puts eating you out off the table, then.” Bucky squeezes him and alright, that does make Steve start to chub up a little. “If you’re up for it, of course.”

“I’m up for getting rid of swamp ass first, and we’ll see what happens from there. Unless you just really, _really_ want to make us even nastier.”

“Appealing as that sounds, I’ll go with your thing first. Then maybe ass eating. Or actual eating – kind of missed having those eggs this morning.” Bucky’s focus drifts somewhere out the windshield, probably thinking about omelets.

The rumble of Steve’s stomach is in agreement. “And coffee.”

They end up debating the merits of breakfast for dinner until they pull into their space in front of their apartment complex, the edge of adrenaline gone from both. Steve only bothers to button his pants up for the short walk up to their door, his hand back in Bucky’s until they step into their living room and they can finally breathe their own air, the lights still off as they move by feel to their bedroom.

Steve stops at the foot and brings Bucky to him, their arms around each other their faces buried in each other’s necks. It’s touch like this that has saved them more than once, kept them mentally in decent shape and out of the therapist’s chair. Lack of expression through physical affection is not a flaw either one of them has, and as Bucky untucks the back of Steve’s shirt to get at his skin, he only wishes he could help him faster.

“You weren’t kidding about the swamp ass thing.” Steve can feel Bucky’s grin as he puts his hands on his skin, making little scritches back and forth with his fingernails.

“Look, buddy, you don’t smell _that_ much better – and we can just as easily do this in the shower as out here, you know.” Steve’s not finding a lot of conviction to put in his argument, but he tries at least. “Unless you have some intense desire to remain in this particular spot for a while.”

“I mean, you’re here so…” Bucky picks his head up and kisses Steve, trying to get his shirt off at the same time. It’s a button down, so he doesn’t have to break the contact as he pushes it off of Steve’s massive arms and down to the floor behind him. He wears no undershirt – far too hot for it today –and Bucky’s hands go right for his chest, his fingers pushing the necklace with his wedding ring up to Steve’s neck as he gropes and feels to his heart’s content.

Steve puts his arms around Bucky’s waist and holds them together, squeezing his husband’s ass and waiting to see how far they go before Bucky remembers they’re both gross as hell right now. 

It comes when Bucky lifts his arms to take off his undershirt that the decision is made – even Steve can tell his deodorant wore off hours ago.

“Alright, shower time, stud – you’re getting a scrubbing.” Steve laughs as they finish stripping, not taking his eyes off of Bucky’s ass for the twenty steps it takes to reach their shower door. It doesn’t take but a moment for the water to reach that perfect temperature of near scalding, and Bucky goes first.

For a moment, they forget about groping each other, standing in the absolute bliss of hot water.

“That feels amazing.” Bucky tilts his head back under the stream, making his body stretch so that all of his muscles are pulled up in higher definition against his skin. Steve starts at his hipbones and slides his hands up, drawing Bucky into a kiss.

“So do you.”

Soaping up is alternated with long, wet kisses, the water pounding the both of them pleasantly numb, making the floor underneath them turn dark with soot and ash as they scrub each other down. The continual, deep touches have Steve hard before he ever gets to washing his hair.

Bucky’s the one to move things along, wrapping his hand around Steve’s cock and smiling into a kiss that’s a little filthier than the ones proceeding. He gets his left hand in the chain of Steve’s necklace and pulls them even closer than before, his knuckles rubbing against Steve’s abs as he jerks him off with an agonizing slowness.

It’s only fair to do the same to Bucky, and when he reaches down he finds Bucky’s got the same sort of raging boner.

Steve pushes them up against the shower wall so that he can envelop Bucky against him, his shoulders just broader enough to make their difference in size noticeable up-close. “This is the real reason you wanted to shower at home, huh?”

Bucky can’t reply right away, as Steve’s worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “Damn right it is – don’t think Fury would be super happy with us if we clogged up the drains with spunk.”

“He’d have gotten over it.” Bucky’s thumb rubs over his frenulum and God, that’s really fucking good and he thrusts up into Bucky’s fist in the hope that he does it again. “But maybe you’re right.”

“Ngh.” Bucky doesn’t have a reply, Steve’s index finger swirling around the inside of his foreskin. “Keep doing that and you’ll end up clogging _our_ drain.”

It’s persuasion enough for Steve to ignore him, keeping his callused fingers focused on the silken softness of the head of Bucky’s cock, having moved the both of them out of the spray of water so that he can feel the copious drip of precome from Bucky’s slit. Only a short amount of time passes before Steve has Bucky shuddering against him, fucking into the tight, slippery tunnel of Steve’s fingers as he comes all over the both of them, grip as solid as steel on Steve’s necklace.

Raising his spunk-coated fingers to his mouth and getting the first taste of Bucky’s body in three days sets Steve off, and by the third pulse of come Bucky’s on his knees, catching the rest with his ridiculously pink mouth and using only that to work his shaft, his head bobbing up and down with the ease of experience, his hands firmly in place on the backs of Steve’s calves. 

“ _Fuck.”_ Steve gets a glimpse of the mess in Bucky’s mouth before it’s gone, swallowed down with the backdrop of Bucky’s gorgeous eyes looking up at him. Not even the sun can beat Bucky for sheer beauty like that.

Bucky remains where he’s on his haunches, so Steve’s obviously going to have to go down – getting back up is an issue to be dealt with when they come to it. As soon as he’s seated on the floor of the shower, Bucky’s in his lap and kissing him for all he’s worth, making sure Steve tastes them together and leaving him so breathless that it’s like standing next to that fire again as it sucks the oxygen from his lungs.

Steve cards his fingers through Bucky’s wet hair and kisses his temple after they finally break apart, a tangle of tired limbs and sore bodies that wouldn’t be traded for anything in the world.

“I wanna have sex.” Bucky’s mouth is right next to Steve’s ear so even at a whisper, he hears it over the still-hot stream of the shower.

“What, right now?” Steve looks down at his soft dick, deflated enough that his foreskin completely covers the head again. “I mean, if you want to but don’t expect a stellar performance…”

Bucky chuckles and tickles the underside of Steve’s chin with his index finger. “Yeah, because I totally expect you to fuck me through the mattress like you’re trying to breed me tonight – I’m talking about when we can both move again.”

Steve doesn’t say anything just yet, still turning Bucky’s suggestion over in his mind – fast and deep is something he’s never had trouble delivering. “Like I’m trying to breed you.”

Just to make sure he heard Bucky correctly.

“Hm. Unless you want me to ride you, in which case I’ll need another hour’s sleep in the morning-” Bucky pecks a row of kisses up his neck and ends up behind his ear, teasing Steve with his tongue.

Steve shushes him by putting a finger to his lips. “I think we should ponder more about that during daylight hours, because I want to do both of those things to you – but can’t.” Hell, getting up off the wet floor of the shower is going to be challenge enough.

The gleam of lust in Bucky’s eye is telling enough. “So… you want some eggs?”

Not until he’s kissed Bucky for another ten minutes and the water’s started to go cold.

___

Bucky’s awake long before Steve is. Not for any particular reason, just that once his body hits a certain point of resting, he can’t stay down for long. There are a bunch of things he could be doing right now, other than lying on his side, cuddled up to Steve’s space-heater warm body and gently stroking the dark blonde hair over his left ear. Like laundry, or running, or putting the coffee on – but he doesn’t _want_ to do any of those things. Not when Steve’s still off in dreamland, always far more exhausted after a big blaze like that then he lets on.

He’s never recovered as fast as Bucky, even though they’re both near physical perfection. A leftover from childhood, before Steve had trained like _hell_ during his adolescence to bulk up and fight off the myriad health problems that had plagued him from infancy. Bucky long ago learned to stop vocalizing his worry, but his heart still secretly aches when Steve has to stop and get himself together before he can resume pushing himself at the near-impossible level he holds himself at.

That’s the toughest part of their job – it’s not dragging people from buildings, containing danger, keeping their city safe – it’s making sure Steve Barnes is just as strong and capable in the evening as when he woke up in the morning. Right at the moment, Bucky has no doubt that Steve’s vital in a very primal sort of way – he’s had his hand around his morning wood for twenty minutes now, feeling it pulse with his heartbeat as he sleeps. Even at the station, Steve wakes up with a hard-on, and it takes a lot of considerable effort on Bucky’s part to not do anything with it. No one else really pays attention to it, nor do they go around checking each other out. They’re a bunch of guys, erections happen, sometimes they take care of it in the toilet, no big deal.

But damn if Bucky hasn’t dreamt of sneaking into Steve’s cot and sucking him off under those hideous standard issue blankets, right where everyone could see and hear them. Half the time his contact with Steve’s junk is purely for comfort but the other half, it’s because he’s enjoying the fact that his husband is hung as _shit._

Risking making them both cold, Bucky shoves the covers down to their thighs and turns his head so that he can watch, his fingers curled in a death grip around Steve’s cock. Precome glistens at the tip, brought about by nothing but Steve being hard. Bucky pulls slowly downward, watching Steve’s long, loose foreskin retract and reveal the dark purple-pink of his cock head, flared wide enough that when it’s in him, the shaft that follows isn’t that much of a surprise.

Bucky ignore his own cock, intently aware of the wet spot he’s made against Steve’s leg. He’s been thinking about the words that had come out of his mouth last night – the whole thing about breeding him. Yeah, after the time apart, Bucky _absolutely_ wants that. Held down on the bed under Steve’s body, his cock being driven deep and slow into him. He half considered fingering himself open so that he could get right to it as soon as Steve awakened but had decided against it – he wants to be eaten out first.

Steve can make him scream on just his tongue, and Bucky needs that catharsis today. Nothing chases away the recurring images of flame and destruction like a good rimjob – and Steve’s a fucking expert.

Bucky’s patience is starting to wear thin, and they’ve been asleep for ten hours now – time for Steve to become alive to the world again. No faster way to make that happen than hitting some of his husband’s hot spots – namely, behind his ears. Or his nipples. Come to think of it, Steve _is_ a hot spot.

He goes for his ear anyway.

The scent of shampoo is still fresh enough that Bucky smells that over sleep sweat clinging to Steve’s skin – a product of his own nature – as he nibbles at his earlobe, his hand gone from Steve’s cock as he rubs his fingers over Steve’s hairy chest. He’s got some, but not nearly the glorious mat of dark blonde that Steve does; he’s only a little bit jealous. He listens to it catch against the rough skin of his hands, just louder than Steve’s breathing. 

Steve moans in his sleep, but he’s not quite to the land of the conscious yet. No problem – Bucky will get him there soon enough. He gently pinches Steve’s left nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling the hard little peak and making Steve’s body jolt. For his own edification, he looks down and watches Steve’s dick throb – the guy’s definitely horny enough. Their orgasms last night had been purely for putting them to sleep. Now’s the time for something a little more involved.

Bucky pulls on Steve’s earlobe with his teeth for half a minute, running the tip of his tongue over the soft flesh in a continuous fashion, coaxing Steve closer and closer to consciousness. He gets the added benefit of another moan, louder this time, and he steps up his attention to Steve’s nipple, pulling along with pinching.

Steve’s eyes flutter open, a low, growly “ _fuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkk”_ being his signal that yes, he does feel everything Bucky’s doing to him right now.

Bucky picks his head up, grinning. “Mornin’, babe.”

“Get over here.”

He growls as he pulls Bucky into a kiss that proclaims _exactly_ what he intends to do to him. They’ve reached the point where Steve doesn’t have to say it, Bucky just _knows_ his ass is about to be owned – and he couldn’t be more overjoyed about it.

Steve places those magnificent, vascular hands on his hips and holds him tightly, directing the kiss how _he_ wants it to go – Bucky’s just along for the ride. Steve’s always been a lip biter and by the time Bucky’s allowed to take a breath, his lower lip is swollen and red. He’s still in Steve’s lap as he’s lifted clear of the mattress, only to be set down on his back the wrong way down and Steve’s blanketing his body with his own, their feet at the pillows.

Immediately, Bucky’s hands are place above his head and Steve’s mouth is back on his own, except this time it’s a complete one eighty from the kiss he was given a moment ago – this one is slow, smoldering, and Steve’s tongue dips in and out of his mouth continually, sliding over the seam of his lips as he joins their hand together. These are exactly the sorts of kisses that Bucky loves most, the ones that feel life-affirming and taste best after a rotation. God, Steve’s great that way, even if Bucky doesn’t articulate it as well as Steve does – he hopes that the fervent way he’s kissing him back is indication enough.

Steve squeezes his fingers as he breaks, sucking down a lungful of oxygen so that he isn’t depleted; Bucky’s still lost in the haze of that kiss.

“Hi.” Steve nips playfully at his jaw, sending teasing little shivers shooting down Bucky’s body that make him whimper softly.

“Hi.” Bucky feels his smile reach his ears, his body trapped and warm. Steve’s gently rutting his cock against Bucky’s, precome making the slide sticky and wonderful. “Got a question for you, Stevie.”

“All ears, Buck.” His voice is husky and soft right now, scraping against Bucky’s ears like the tender caress of his hands.

“You gonna be real mad if we don’t leave bed today?” Just the thoughts of responsibility make Bucky recoil – touching Steve’s naked body in a continual sort of fashion seems _immensely_ preferable to anything else right now.

“Nah – but I’m definitely cooking you breakfast while naked.” Steve looks down at him with eyes so blue they make the sky jealous, and Bucky cranes his neck up for another one of those long, fire-warm kisses. Steve doesn’t back down from it, but he does shift them so that Bucky can get his legs around his waist, keeping him in place. He does let Bucky’s hands go and they’re immediately in Steve’s hair and on his back. Bucky gets to listen to Steve moan now, his fingernails making goosebumps stand up so quickly on his skin that Bucky feels them against his chest.

Their department watches both chirp eleven o’clock before they finally manage to tear themselves from kissing each other, the call of nature finally winning out – which isn’t going to be easy answer, given the massive erections they’ve both got right now. Bucky considers jerking off just so that he’ll go soft enough to do what he needs, but Steve catches him at the foot of the bed and draws him for another kiss.

“What,” Bucky says between wet, soft presses of their lips together, “you want me to hold your dick for you while you pee?”

Steve doesn’t answer right away and no lie, Bucky would do it – hell, they have. Turns out your aim isn’t so good when you’re drunk.

Finally, Steve pulls away and heads for the master bathroom. “Maybe next time.” He walks backwards so that Bucky can watch his dick bounce; Bucky woofs and pants before he runs down the hall to the guest bathroom, nearly having to do gymnastics to get his hard dick to point in the right direction.

The relief of not having a full bladder is definitely going to make sex a lot better once they finally get around to it – he even wipes off the end instead of shaking, just to make sure he gets everything. He holds himself all the way back to the bedroom, where Steve’s coming out right as he’s about to lie back down on the bed.

“Better?” Bucky asks as he pulls Steve down on top of him.

“A thousand percent.” Steve lets Bucky pull him around by his necklace for a moment before he bats his hands away and grabs Bucky’s hips flipping him over in one easy, practiced motion and looming over his back.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about dicking you good and deep.” He puts his teeth at the top of Bucky’s spine and scrapes them along heated flesh, making Bucky arch his back.

“Trust me – I know you haven’t. Kinda got the message from all the manhandling.” Like fuck if Bucky’s going to tell him to stop, either. Getting tossed around by Steve like he weighs nothing is his favorite part of sex with Steve – and Bucky’s a pretty beefy guy.

“Mmmm.” Another bite to the top of his shoulder and really, marking Bucky up like this is just for the hell of it – there’s not a single instance where Bucky can think of ever having made Steve jealous – God’s sake, why _would he want to?_ Steve’s definitely not the sort of person you look at and think “eh, I could do better.” It breaks Bucky’s heart to even _think_ about that.

A lot of it also boils down to one other thing – Bucky likes to be bitten, especially when Steve goes all power top on him. Yeah, that’s another favorite right there.

Bucky rubs his ass against Steve’s cock, poking him right between his balls and hole. “Think you should do something about getting that big fuckin’ cock inside me, yeah?”

Steve doesn’t reply, just keeps making Bucky shiver with little bites. “ _I_ think _you’re_ the one on the bottom right now, and that you should just enjoy the ride.” Bucky can hear the grin in Steve’s voice – aggressive power top he ain’t, no matter how badly he wants to believe he is.

“Tell me again how I’m at a disadvantage in this situation?” Bucky turns his head and Steve wraps his arms around him, kissing him back so deeply that Bucky forgets that he wants his ass eaten. Damn Steve’s magical ability to make that happen, along with all the other fuzzy-brained sensation he makes him feel on a continual basis. He hates the adage that marriage kills sex – honestly, he and Steve have had _way_ more married sex than unmarried sex. Getting enough of him is never enough.

Steve lets him go, his hold on Bucky’s lower lip going slower than detaching himself from his body. It’s all a part of the anticipation and God, Bucky is _ready._ He’s been ready since Steve pinned him initially, hell even before that – the reason his dick is hard and wet every fucking morning of his life is directly _because_ of Steve.

“Ready, baby?” Steve’s mouth is at midback currently, kissing the knobs of his spine, tracing his tongue over old scars that even Bucky’s forgotten the stories behind. No, he absolutely wants Steve to _not_ continue his journey south.

“Fuckin’ hell, Stevie, if my ass could be wet it would be – what do you think?” He wiggles his hips and Steve grins, licking his lower back dimples and grabbing a pillow that’s come out of place. He puts it under Bucky’s hips and raises him so that Bucky feels that perfect sensation of exposed and helpless – his ass doesn’t even have to spread that far under Steve’s hands.

“Got the sort of ass that makes you don’t want anything else, Buck.” Steve kisses his perineum and licks his balls, drawn up tight to his body with arousal. “Swear to God if they paid me to do it…” Steve doesn’t finish the thought, choosing to show what he means, and the first lick of his tongue across his hole makes Bucky _melt._

Bucky has vivid memories of the first time Steve ate him out – right after they started senior year of high school and Steve had seen Bucky’s physical results for the football team, declaring him negative for whatever illnesses he’d been checked for. Up to that point, they hadn’t gone all the way in regards to bareback – but Steve’s tongue up his ass was dangerously close. He’d been trying on his football gear at the time and Steve had bent him right over the bed, all of that new, rippling muscle becoming a lot hotter when Bucky found out Steve could toss him around – he’d come twice on just Steve’s tongue, and there would have been a third had Sarah not called asking where Steve was.

He still thinks about it every fucking time Steve rims him, and he misses those football pads _a lot –_ maybe he’ll invest in some just for Steve’s sake.

“Fuck _ing hell,”_ Bucky moans, reaching for the thick locks of Steve’s hair – only to have his arm pinned to the small of his back as Steve starts to spell out the name of everything in their bedroom with his tongue – starting with “Bucky.” He can’t tell if he gets it right, but he trusts Steve to know. Bucky’s far too gone to really focus on Steve’s grammatical capabilities at the moment.

Steve has to take a break at “mirror” after going through the bed coverings and nightstand, plus all the objects on them. Bucky’s eyes roll back down from the back of his head as Steve turns him over again; Bucky’s _intensely_ aware of the big wet spot of Steve’s spit and his precome all over the pillowcase he had pressed up against him. It’s pushed as as Steve presses their bodies flush together,

Bucky’s arms are around his neck in an instant, his hard nipples rubbing against Steve’s sweaty, hairy chest. “Think you’ve warmed me up enough – time to put _me_ out.”

“That’s what we’re doing now, fireman jokes in bed?” Steve smirks and captures his lips again, rutting his cock against Bucky’s ass. “I know I’m easy, but c’mon.” He reaches for the lube under his pillow and Bucky rolls over, intent on being fucked on his stomach – or on his side. Or doggy style. Just whatever position Steve holds most of the power in because he _needs_ that kind of fucking today. How he gets it doesn’t really seem important at this point.

“You know you like them.” Bucky tries to make his smile infectious as he watches Steve lube up his fingers, thick and strong and very soon to be inside him – he grabs his knees and holds them back, just in case Steve hasn’t picked up on his invitation yet. “Got ‘em for days, Stevie.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me.” He gives Bucky another hard kiss – enough to make him _feel_ his lips bruise – before he spreads lube all around the wet, spit-slick mess of Bucky’s hole. Bucky had another joke ready about really wanting Steve’s hose inside him but it’s stopped when Steve’s fingertips tease the sensitive skin just inside his body, opened up just far enough for him to slip in without much effort.

“You were saying?” Steve cuddles up to his side and helps Bucky keep his leg pulled back with his forearm. Bucky’s head drops to the pillows, having wound up back the right way round in the course of repositioning – he’ll need to stay here when Steve fucks him. Biting the pillow keeps him _slightly_ quieter than if he doesn’t have it.

“Uh…” Bucky forgets words, location, most everything – right now, there’s only Steve’s fingers inside of him. He starts off with two because really, Bucky can take that much right off the bad, stopping right on his knuckles so that Bucky’s body opens up that much faster, crooking them and stroking his fingers inside. Bucky feels delightfully violated, made to feel even more so when Steve murmurs ”so fucking _soft_ ” right into his ear – hearing it doesn’t exactly do much to help Bucky _not_ come, since Steve’s got him close. 

Three fingers happens, and Bucky has to turn and kiss Steve to keep him from screaming. Any other time he’d be doing so at the top of his lungs but man, he’s still beat from their rotation and he needs to save some energy for later, especially if all-day dicking is going to be a thing that happens. 

That does mean he gets to come whenever he needs to, right? Steve didn’t say anything about that…

“Steve, baby, c’mon, I’m fuckin’ ready for you – you know I am.” Seriously, if Steve’s not inside him in the next twenty seconds, Bucky will turn over and pull Steve in himself. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before when Steve wants to be a fucking massive tease.

“Bossiest damn bottom, I swear.” There’s not a bit of malice behind what Steve says, not when it’s a compliment to Bucky. Steve kisses a soft laugh into his cheek and puts Bucky on his stomach, not bothering with the pillow under his hips again; when Bucky wants to get fucked through the mattress, he doesn’t want anything between himself and the Tempurpedic that’s endured so much abuse over the last few years.

Bucky holds himself open as Steve wets his cock, making appreciative sounds as he lines himself up with Bucky’s hole. “Wish I could take a picture – you’re fucking _gaping_ right now.”

“Yeah, it has to be so you can shove that fuckin’ horse cock in me – now get to it.” Bucky tries to turn his head far enough to watch Steve enter him but the angle he’s put himself at makes that action difficult – he settles for simply _feeling,_ and it’s just as good was watching. Steve’s hands feel massive and powerful on his shoulders where he’s steadying himself, making their bodies fit together like some sort of smutty jigsaw puzzle. Bucky’s been taking Steve’s cock for years but it still feels like he’s getting a telephone pole shoved in, making his eyes water and his cock throb. Halfway in is when he starts to moan, his breath hitched in his throat as he tries to inhale.

He closes his eyes against the sensation of his world being torn in two and tears at the sheets, his ass pressed up against Steve’s hips. Changing the angle of his body like that makes Steve slide in the rest of the way all in a rush and he hits Bucky right in the prostate, making him jolt.

“ _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._ ” Bucky can feel every goddamn inch of Steve, his hole stretched and his body feeling nothing else aside from where Steve’s in him. “Stevie, fuckin’ shit, you… just…” He really hopes Steve isn’t counting on him to try and string any more words together than that. The thinking part of his brain has vacated his skull, sliding out of his ear to settle somewhere and come back later when Bucky can actually use it.

“Yeah?” Steve’s as cool as anything, his hands now planted firmly to either side of Bucky’s head, holding himself up while he grinds himself against Bucky’s ass, glacially slow and torturous. “Didn’t quite catch any of that.”

Bucky groans, unable to rut against the mattress and bring himself even a modicum of relief. “Just… fuck me, okay? Fuck my ass so fuckin’ hard I scream.” If that doesn’t send the message, then Steve’s an idiot. No, actually he’s not, but Bucky will begin to seriously doubt his husband’s comprehensive facilities.

“Yeah, Buck, I can do that for you. Gonna fuck that pretty ass so good you beg for more.”

Bucky doesn’t even _want_ to think about more right now – but it means little, because there will _always_ be more from Steve.

Steve doesn’t try to go fast – sure it feels beyond pleasurable, even Nirvana-like for Bucky, but it’s a hard position to hold for his top. Bucky knows his thigh muscles are straining right now, magnificent as they are. Bucky would love to grab a hold of them and squeeze, feel the power rippling through Steve’s body and feel it transferred to his own – but he’s face down into one of the pillows, crying out higher and higher every time Steve’s cock fucks back into him, all the way in and then almost all the way out. He knows his body is stretching looser with every thrust, Steve _making_ himself belong there.

“Feels so goddamn good baby boy, swear to God I could do this all fuckin’ day.” He comes down on one thrust and stays down, circling his hips as he bites Bucky’s ear, his breath making Bucky shiver. “My hot fuckin’ husband, has the best goddamn ass I’ve ever seen.” He takes his hands from where they’re bearing his weight and wraps them around Bucky’s body, tight enough that all of the air is squeezed out of his lungs.

“Steve, your…” Bucky tries to finish with “your cock feels so fucking _deep”_ but doesn’t get the chance, because Steve’s rolling them onto their sides, never pulling out once in the process and it absolutely changes everything, Bucky’s body nearly curling in on itself as Steve starts to fuck him faster, his sweet spot overloaded and Steve’s hands leaving prints on his ribcage.

Steve kisses his shoulder, his neck, moving his way up to Bucky’s mouth. Bucky kisses him like a man who’s not had a drink in an eon, sucking greedily on Steve’s tongue and lips, his right hand holding his cock and stroking in a poor attempt to match Steve’s thrusts.

It’s when Steve grabs his thigh and pushes it up to get even deeper that Bucky’s heart nearly stops, his head thrown back and his body placed _exactly_ how Steve wants it. “Fuckin’ hell, Steve, you’re gonna make me come like this.”

Steve starts fucking him faster, growling into Bucky’s neck. “Wanna see you shoot that pretty load, Buck, all over the goddamn bed.” His grip on Bucky’s thigh grows tighter, the sweat sticking them together more profuse. Little can be done to stave off orgasm now, and Bucky closes his fingers tightly around his foreskin, jerking himself sharp and fast. Steve’s cock is doing most of the work, filling him up so completely that the first few pulses of orgasm he doesn’t even feel – his come shoots out so far and hard that it misses the bed completely. 

The rest, however, leaves his head spinning and his body screaming with release, his cries swallowed by Steve’s mouth as he gives him another crushing kiss, slamming his cock into Bucky’s ass as his own orgasm consumes. 

Chalk another fuck up to spank bank status. Just the sound of Steve fucking him will be more than enough for future pleasure.

Steve helps him stroke out the last few drops before he half-rolls them so that Bucky’s face down again, breathing heavy and wetly at the back of his neck.

“I… I can’t feel anything right now.” He’s still inside Bucky – which Bucky _very_ much feels.

“Speak for yourself there, stud.” Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to remove himself, licking the come off of his own fingers. “You stay where you are as long as you like.” Speaking isn’t the easiest thing right now but hey, he’s got Steve pressed ridiculously close – that’s good enough for now.

“I uh… didn’t mean to get that vulgar but…” Steve actually sounds apologetic right now, and Bucky twists around to look him in the eye.

“Uh, you mean the whole ‘my husband has the best goddamn ass in the world?’ Yeah, I don’t think there’s anything to apologize for there. Makes _me_ feel pretty fuckin’ good anyway.”

“What, the part about your ass or being my husband?” Steve smiles finally gives up on keeping himself inside Bucky – he has to ignore the mess of come and lube that’s dragged out when Steve’s cock finally returns to where it belongs.

Bucky pulls him on top of him and puts his arms around his neck. “The ass thing for sure, but the husband part definitely. Still gets me all hot and bothered to know you’re here til the end of the line.”

“Is that another fireman joke, or…”

Bucky laughs and kisses Steve, all slow and sweet this time. “Make me some breakfast and I’ll tell you.”

“Only if you blow the chef while he’s frying the bacon.” Steve’s grin is without shame and as bright as the sun – how could Bucky possibly resist that much charm?

That’s almost certainly worth the inevitable burnt edges on it, for sure.


End file.
